


Andante, andante (go slowly with me now)

by liionne



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes needs to use his words, M/M, Modern Steve Rogers, Sex Work, Steve Rogers is very smooth, They both need to communicate better, Touch-Starved, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, idek how to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 11:47:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18549151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liionne/pseuds/liionne
Summary: “He’s something of an escort.” Bucky blanks, and Natalia sighs. “A sex worker. But he's - sensitive. A sex therapist, maybe, but it with more touching. You can pay him for a few hours, he’ll come here, help you out, and then he’ll leave.”Bucky considers it. He doesn’t mind paying for sex - hell, back in the 40s he used to make a few extra bucks on the side with stuff like that, so no, that’s not the issue. He just doesn’t want a stranger in his home, compromising this safe space he’d built for himself, someone he doesn’t know from adam, couldn’t trust as far as he could throw.“I’ll arrange a meeting.” Natalia says. “Just a cup of coffee.”Bucky sighs softly, but he can already feel himself leaning into the idea. Just a cup of coffee, he reminds himself. No more obligation than that. Can back out any time. “Okay. Set it up.”Natasha smiles, warm and sincere, and she nods before she raises her cup to her lip. “Consider it done.”





	Andante, andante (go slowly with me now)

Bucky has been back in the world, properly back, back in his own body back, for about nine months now, and it’s… lonely. Jesus, he’s fucking lonely. He’d moved out of the tower when he was no longer a security risk, and he saw Natalia every so often, but he didn’t really see anyone else. Why would he? He had no one to see, for one. For two, he didn’t go anywhere. And for three, he didn’t want to go anywhere. He liked being his own space.

But he’s lonely.

Not so much for company; whilst he would rather move to New Jersey than stay in the tower, he still sees everyone pretty regularly. Natasha is in his apartment fairly often, and she sometimes bring Barton, though Bucky sees him at the shooting range more often than not. He doesn’t like Stark much (simultaneously too similar and too different to his father, who Bucky would rather not think about anyway, thanks), but he likes Pepper, and Rhodes isn’t so bad. Wanda steers clear of him; Bucky thinks that’s maybe a good thing.

So yeah, he has a lot of friends. What he doesn’t have is… contact.

Physical contact. All kinds of physical contact, from an innocent hug to…. not so innocent things. He hasn’t been touched in a very, very long time.

There was a reason for that, though. When he first broke through the last of the HYDRA programming, he hadn’t wanted to be touched. People had been touching him against his will for the last seventy years, and he hadn’t been comfortable with any of it when he had first come back. After he had broken an intern’s nose when he had touched his arm, people had given him space.

They just hadn’t stopped.

And then Bucky, being curious and bored and having too much time on his hands, had stumbled across porn.

That had opened his eyes to a few things. The first being that you could look as many naked people (not just dames, which was good news for Bucky) as you wanted on the internet, at any time of the day, for free. The second was that he wanted it. He wanted everything. He wanted to touch and be touched; he wanted to moan, to make someone else moan, to be so wrapped up in pleasure that the rest of the world fell away to nothing. He wanted someone.

He blurts all of that to Natalia one day when she comes over for coffee. Her lips twist a little, and she puts her cup down on the counter with a soft clink. Other than that, though, her response is a mystery. Until she says:

“I’d offer, Yasha, but I don’t do that anymore, and by the looks of things, you don’t want it anyway.” The looks of things - he assumes she means the way he had almost turned himself inside out cringing so hard. “But I can help. I know a guy.”

“You know a guy.”

“Is that a problem?” She asks, eyebrow arching. How does she know?

“No, it’s not a problem.” He murmurs in response, hands curling tighter around the mug nestled between them.

“He’s something of an escort.” Bucky blanks, and Natalia sighs. “A sex worker. But he's - sensitive. A sex therapist, maybe, but it with more touching. You can pay him for a few hours, he’ll come here, help you out, and then he’ll leave.”

Bucky considers it. He doesn’t mind paying for sex - hell, back in the 40s he used to make a few extra bucks on the side with stuff like that, so no, that’s not the issue. He just doesn’t want a stranger in his home, compromising this safe space he’d built for himself, someone he doesn’t know from adam, couldn’t trust as far as he could throw. He’s wary of everyone these days; Natalia is the only one who gets close, really close, and only because she understands. She’s been where he is; if he’s on step one, she’s on step twelve, past that, already completed the programme.

Natalia seems to get that, though, because she smiles softly. “He’s already passed all our background checks, Yasha. He’s totally clean. And you can meet him before you hire him - Steve’s good that way.”

“Steve.” He murmurs. Steve doesn’t seem like the name of a sex worker, but Bucky can’t follow that line of thinking without crossing a few stereotypes, which he knows are bad. Stereotypes are bad, in this century. “How come?”

"How come SHIELD have approved an escort? He’s helped us on a few missions, actually. Given us intel, seduced a few people in the name of justice. Believe it or not, there’s some people who don’t want to sleep with me.”

Bucky snorts, because he doubts that, but then he realises he’s one of those people. Funny how that happens.

“I’ll arrange a meeting.” Natalia says. “Just a cup of coffee.”

“A cup of coffee?”

Bucky doesn’t really remember the days when he was a charming, charismatic conversationalist (god knows he doesn’t have to, seeing as the history books and the museums never shut up about it), but he knows that one day, long ago, he was better than this. Just repeating her words back to her, waiting for an explanation.

Natalia doesn’t seem to mind too much, though, because she nods. “Coffee. Somewhere public, open. I’ll be close by. You can talk, see if you want to go any further with this. Steve’s a good guy. He understands that this is difficult for some people.”

Bucky’s stomach immediately twists. “Does he know? Who I am?”

“No, Yasha,” Natalia says softly, and from the look in her eyes, Bucky trusts her. She means it. “He doesn’t know anything about you - and he’ll only know as much as you want to tell him. But this… wanting contact? It’s nothing new. Human beings are unfortunately hard-wired to want it. You’ll not be the first person who’s gone to Steve looking for that kind of contact. You won’t be the last. He knows that for some, it’s not as easy as a late-night hookup in an alleyway.”

Bucky sighs softly, but he can already feel himself leaning into the idea. Just a cup of coffee, he reminds himself. No more obligation than that. Can back out any time.

“Okay. Set it up.”

Natasha smiles, warm and sincere, and she nods before she raises her cup to her lip. “Consider it done.”

~*~

The meeting is set for only a few days later; a tuesday lunch time, a perfectly ordinary time of day. They’re meant to meet at a cafe not far from Bucky’s house, also perfectly normal. Perfetly perfectly normal.

So why is Bucky’s stomach threatening to eat itself with anxiety?

Natalia gets her coffee, and Bucky gets his, an act that would have seemed impossible a year ago, when he barely understood what wanting was, how he could ask for things, just like that. Now, though, he sips at his coffee. He waits.

“Ah,” Natalia says, when the bell above the door rings. She stands, and Bucky watches as a man approaches - the kind of many Bucky definitely, certainly wouldn’t hesitate to look at on one of those porn sites. The type of man he certainly wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to touch, to see at all sorts of angles, to--

“Natasha,” He greets Natalia, and Bucky once again marvels at the name, so subtly different and yet to him, so foreign. He kisses her cheek, and she smiles, engages in a gentle hug.

“Steve,” She replies. “Long time no see.”

Steve shrugs, but he seems bashful. Are they friends? Did Natasha mention that?

“I was working on a project. Holed myself away for a while.”

“Not for the first time.”

Steve shrugs once more, but his ears have turned pink. Natalia - Natasha - turns around, and gestures to Bucky, where he sits there quietly, as if he hand’t even existed up until that very moment.

“Steve, this is James.” Natalia says.

“It’s nice to meet you, James.” Steve says, and he smiles, so blindingly brilliant that it takes Bucky a moment for his mouth to form the words:

“You can call me Bucky. If you--” He falters. Internally curses himself. What happened to the smooth as fuck Bucky Barnes? Hydra didn’t want him flirting on their missions, is that it? “If you like.”

“Bucky,” Steve says, and smiles that too-bright smile again. Bucky can’t look away. Natalia arches a single eyebrow, and then takes her seat while Steve goes off to order.

“So,” Natalia leans across the table conspiratorially ; Bucky rolls his eyes at her, just a little. Little gestures like that had been his first rebellion against his programming, after he’d escaped it. “What do you think?”

“What do you mean?”

Natalia fixes him with a look that says _I know what you’re doing, now talk to me_. “I mean, do you think you could perform whatever lude acts you’ve been watching on pornhub with him--”

“It’s xvideos, and yes, I think I could.” Bucky hisses back at her.

Natalia smirks, cat-like. Steve returns just in the nick of time, sitting down between the two of them at the table. Natalia is still smirking, and Bucky scowling. They make an odd pair.

“Uh… what did I miss?”

“I was just asking Bucky if he found you attractive.”

“Nat!” Bucky protests.

“No, that’s important,” Steve says with a shake of his head, sipping at his coffee. His ears have turned a delightful shade of pink. Bucky kind of wants to touch them, run his tongue along them-- fuck. Public. Get it together, Barnes. Steve is still talking. “Physical attraction is all a part of it. That’s why agencies have a lot of different people on the books, y’know.”

“I’m a lot more partial to Sam.” Natalia grins.

Steve rolls his eyes, exasperated, but there’s a smile on his lips, too. “I know you are.”

“Well; with that, I think I’ll leave you boys to it.” Natalia says, smiling wickedly, but Bucky knows she won’t be too far away; she never is, not if he needs her close.

“So - just the two of us.” Steve smiles. He’s been left at a table with a total stranger, and yet he doesn’t seem phased at all. In fact, he seems pretty comfortable, if body language is anything to go off (and it is, because Bucky has extensive knowledge of body language, part of his training and part of being manhandled, passed from one asshole to another, for several decades).

“If there’s anything you wanna know, ask away. I’m an open book.”

“Can you… can you tell me about you? About yourself?” Bucky asks, far more hesitant than Steve seems to be. Sure he’s getting better at talking to people, but it’s still an uphill battle. Easier to ask open questions, let Steve do the majority of the talking.

“Sure.” Steve nods. “I grew up in Brooklyn, in Bay Ridge, but I went to DC for college. Studied Politics and Political Communication,” When Bucky grimaces, Steve grins. “Yeah, I know. Sounds awful. It wasn’t too bad?” Bucky grimaces again, and Steve laughs, a warm, rich sound that makes Bucky lean in just a little closer. “Alright, so it wasn’t a cake walk, but I liked it. Moved back to New York after that, haven’t left since.”

Bucky wants to ask why he does what he does, but he can’t. Or at least, it feels like he can’t. It doesn’t feel right. So instead, he asks, “how do you and Natasha know each other?”

“She didn’t tell you?” Steve asks. Bucky shrugs, because she has, sort of, but two different people often have very different memories of how a single event occurred. He wants to hear what Steve says.

“Work, mostly. I've helped her team out a few times. But yknow, not being…” Steve waves a hand, at first in the air and then gesturing to Bucky, and Bucky wants to laugh because no, Steve is nothing like him, because Bucky is nothing special, and Steve is… a lot. Something very special, that much is for sure. “There’s only so much I can do.”

“Right.” Bucky murmurs.

“It’s fine,” Steve smiles softly. “I kinda made a decision, when I got into this line of work. I could’ve went into the police force, army I guess, but it never seemed like the right time, or the right fit, and then I got into this, and— sorry. Got a habit of babbling when I’m nervous, someone doesn’t stop me I’ll put my foot right in my mouth.” Before Bucky has a chance to question him on that, nervous, Steve barrels on. “Was there anything else you wanted to know?”

Bucky can’t think straight. A lot is going on. The cafe is busy, and Steve is talking to him, looking at him, those bright blue eyes settled on him, so intently—

“How does this… work?”

Steve smiles gently. “We arrange a time and a date, and we meet somewhere you’re comfortable with. Doesn’t have to be your space, and if you don’t mind, it won’t be mine, but as long as you’re happy there… anyway, i stay for an arranged number of hours, then I leave. There’s no obligation from you to talk to me ever again - and I’m pretty sure Nat’s sorting out the payment, so don’t worry about that - but if you wanted to we can arrange another meeting.”

“Do we have to,” Bucky swallows thickly, the words catching in his throat. Tries again. “Do we have to have sex, the first time?”

“No!” Steve shakes his head. “No, of course not. You’re paying for the time, Bucky, you can do whatever you want with it.” He says, and then he smiles. “A few years ago I had a guy who used to hire me every Friday night just to watch foreign movies and have dinner.”

“Okay.” Bucky murmurs. He feels like he should explain himself, even though he knows he owes Steve nothing. It’s just that he wants to. He wants Steve to know about him. It’s probably useful, too, for what they’re going for here. “I just - I need to trust you first.”

“I’d worry more if you didn’t.” Steve says, still giving Bucky that soft smile that makes his toes curl a little inside his sneakers. “is there a time that works best for you?”

Bucky doesn’t want to admit that he’s free 24/7, because it feels pathetic, so he says, “Is Wednesday okay?”

“Sure,” Steve nods. He pulls an honest to god diary out of his pocket, and a pen along with it, and flicks to the date, the following Wednesday. Bucky finds, oddly, that he’s fascinated by it. He likes Steve a little more for it. “The evening? About 7pm? I can bring food.”

“I’ll bring the food.” Bucky blurts. He doesn’t know why. “And seven is fine.”

Steve scribbles down his phone number on another page of the book, tears it out, and hands it across to Bucky. “That’s my number, just text me an address, and I’ll—“

“That seems dumb.” Bucky murmurs. “Dangerous.”

Steve smiles wryly. “I vet each location before I go, Bucky.” He assures him. “And Natasha thinks you’re good people, so I already sort of trust you. Just text me the address, and I’ll be there.”

“Okay.” Bucky murmurs. Natalia appears at the table, standing by his side.

“We’re all done here?” She asked, smiling at Steve.

“Seems like it.” Steve smiles softly. He reaches across the table, as if to touch Bucky’s hand, and then thinks better of it. Bucky is both glad, and also mourning the loss of the touch that could have been. “I’ll see you wednesday, Buck.”

Bucky nods, and Natalia stands by his shoulder, waiting until he’s gone.

“So - wednesday.” She says eyes flashing.

Bucky huffs softly, knocking back the last of his coffee before he stands. “I want to go home.”

Ah, the power of an I want. He hadn’t been able to use those words for the first two months he was “home”. Natalia’s expression flickers, before schooling into more of the same. “Alright. I’ll help you pick out what you’re going to wear.”

Buck knows better than to argue with that.

~*~

  
Steve arrives at seven o’clock on the dot, which Bucky knows, because he’s been watching the clock since six. The time had gone at a normal speed until about six thirty, when suddenly it had slowed down, seconds ticking by like molasses…

And then, blink. Seven. A knock on the door.

Bucky fidgets with the hem of his shirt, the dark black Henley that Natalia had assured him looked good and was also fairly casual. He simultaneously wants to ignore the door and rip it off its hinges; in the end, he takes a deep breath, and opens the door.

Steve smiles just as soon as he looks at Bucky, and Bucky feels heat flood his cheeks. His hair is swept back in a ponytail, but a lock falls free and he has to sweep it away.

Steve looks good; so good, and Bucky can’t even really see him, not with the coat he’s wearing. There’s a light in his eyes, though, a curve to his smile, that keeps Bucky looking. Makes him want.

“Can I come in?” Steve asks. Shit. They’ve been stood in the doorway for a while.

“Yes. Sorry. Hello.” Bucky says softly, stepping back and to the side so that Steve can come in. He closes the door softly behind him. “I got thai I hope that’s ok—“

“That’s great, Buck. That’s my favourite,” Steve grins, looking over at Bucky as he shrugs out of his coat. His shirt is tight - Bucky wants - and he looks good, even better, but he doesn’t let himself stare. Staring isn’t good.

“Are you hungry?”

They eat at the breakfast bar, Bucky on one side and Steve on the other because he doesn’t have an actual table. Bucky asks Steve about his day, because that’s a normal thing to do. Steve explains how he’s helping out a veterans charity lobby the government for…. Bucky doesn’t know. He’s sort of just watching Steve’s mouth - he still wants - and he’s never been that good at listening anyway, if the words weren’t orders barked at him in Russian.

He has the good grace to feel bad about not listening, though. He tries to ask him more questions, but in the end, once the food is gone, he gives up and scuffs his toe against the carpet, nervous still.

“I can help with the dishes,” Steve offers, but Bucky gives a jerky shake of his head.

“Can we— Natalia’s making me watch friends? She says it’s important, but I don’t…”

Steve puts his plate down from where he had picked it up, evidently with the intention of taking it to the sink, and he smiles gently. Encouragingly - that’s a good word for it. “Wanna watch together?”

Another jerky nod, and then they’re on the couch, Bucky going through the motions of putting on the show whilst being acutely aware of Steve sitting at the other end of the couch. He’s aware of the heat radiating from his body, the rise and fall of his chest, the soft huff of his breath.

He likes Steve; he likes him a lot, actually, even though he knows almost nothing about him, and that’s new for Bucky. He never normally likes without knowing; he never normally trusts without knowing, but then he’s not sure he trusts Steve yet.

He looks at the clock; they only have an hour left. Natalia won’t be disappointed in him if this is all the do. No one will. But Bucky wants contact, he wants something physical, tangible. Steve is so close and Bucky hasn't been touched in so long and he knows it has to be him, he has to make the first move--

He reaches across the couch and takes Steve’s hand, and then tools a deep breath. When had he stopped breathing?

Steve doesn’t look at him in surprise, doesn’t jump out of his skin. He looks over at Bucky calmly, and runs his thumb over Bucky’s knuckles. It’s the barest of touches and yet Bucky gasps, because it’s so much more, so intimate, compared to everything, any touch he’s had from the past few years. 

He wants more, he just doesn’t know how to put it. He’s not even sure what, exactly, he wants.

Good job Steve does.

“We can cuddle, if you think you’re ready for it.” He says. Bucky wonders what frequency he’s tuned to, because it must be the same as his. He nods again, managing a tentative smile as he Steve shuffles across the couch.

“You wanna lead, or can I man handle you a little?” Steve asks. Bucky thinks he doesn’t care; this close up he can smell Steve, not just his cologne but the sweet, earthy musk of his skin and he can feel how warm he is. He wants to get closer, he wants Steve wrapped around him, completely. 

“Manhandling is fine.” Bucky murmurs, and he’s glad he did. Steve lies down and pulls Bucky down with him, shuffling them TIL they’re back to chest, Steve’s arm curled over his waist and their hands still joined, and Bucky just — can humans melt? He’s pretty sure he’s melting. Steve is warm and solid behind him, a soothing presence that Bucky is coming to trust more and more with each passing minute. Steve is holding him like he isn’t afraid of him, even though he knows that Steve knows who he is (who he was), because Natalia is thorough, and she would never let him get into something like this without properly briefing him first. His metal arm doesn’t frighten Steve, doesn’t deter him; he lays his arm over the entire length of it, warming the metal plates with the heat of his skin. All of it, the security and the comfort, the smell and the warmth and the presence of Steve finally allows Bucky’s brain to release some god damn Serotonin, and he feels happy.

So happy that his eyes start to close, lulled to sleep by Steve.

Bucky won’t allow that, though. There’s still that small part of him, the paranoid part (he would argue that the whole of him is paranoid, but in truth it’s only a handful of braincells), that keeps itself on red alert.

So instead, he dozes, and after a few more episodes, he feels Steve begin to shift.

“It’s time for you to go.” Bucky murmurs, his voice carefully bereft of emotion. Steve doesn’t need to know that Bucky wants him to stay.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees. So Bucky pulls himself from his embrace, sits up. Steve’s shirt is rumpled, tugged up at one corner so that Bucky can see just a peek of his hip. Once again, he wants, but it’s too late.

“I can come back next week.” Steve offers, looking at Bucky. He hasn’t moved from the couch yet - Bucky has to wonder why, but he won’t.

Bucky nods, such a small gesture, and yet it causes Steve to light up like— like—

Bucky can’t really think when he’s smiling like that.

“Same time?” Steve asks. Once again, Bucky nods. That smile inches wider. “Next time I’ll bring the food.”

Another nod; Bucky walks Steve to the door, because it’s the Polite Thing To Do. Once they’re there, Steve moves in very slowly - giving Bucky notice - and kisses his cheek. “Next week.” He promises.

Bucky begins to count down the days.

~*~

And thus begins a war between Bucky and his paranoia.

He wants Steve. More of Steve. For three weeks, he comes over, they eat dinner, they talk, and then they cuddle on the couch. After three hours, Steve goes home, and Bucky watches him walk away from the living room window, forlorn and wishing he had asked for more.

The fifth night, he decides he has to bite the bullet; Natalia tells him as much.

“Use your words, Barnes.” She says, perched on his kitchen counter. “Steve’s a big boy, just like you. He’ll understand.”

So. Bucky's going to use his words. Steve is going to understand.

Bucky’s good at using his words, usually, but his timing could be better. When Steve steps in the door, Bucky takes one shuddering breath, and says, “Will you kiss me?”

Steve looks around fast enough that Bucky worries about his neck, and for a moment he looks almost surprised.

“‘Course, Bucky. Whatever you want.” Steve murmurs, shifting closer to him, moving across the hallway.

Whatever you want. That’s new. Well, not new - people have been telling him that for almost a year, but it’s the first time they’ve meant it. The first time they’ve meant it like— this. And for the record, Bucky wants a lot of things. With Steve, he wants so many things.

“On the - on the couch.” Bucky says, and Steve nods, abandoning the food he had brought. Bucky hesitates once they actually reach the couch, because he doesn’t know where to go, how he should sit, but luckily, Steve has him covered.

“I’m going to sit down, and you can sit in my lap?” A good position; lets Bucky have some control, makes it easier for him to move away. Also makes it easier for him to pin Steve, to box him in; its another reminder that Steve trusts him, for whatever reason.

He sits; Bucky ends up in his lap and they've been this close before but this is so new. Bucky can see right into Steve’s eyes, the green and gold flecks hiding amongst the blue, and it eases his roiling stomach.

Steve settles his hands on the small of Bucky’s back, and leans in, still giving Bucky room to move back. Bucky does the exact opposite, surging forward and pressing his lips to Steve’s.

Back in the 30s, James Buchanan Barnes was smooth. He kissed dames (and guys, but he didn’t talk about that) in such a way that their knees went weak; they held onto him, ruffling his shirt or his hair or whatever was to hand; they beckoned him closer, invited him in for more.

Now, in 2014, James Buchanan Barnes is kind of clumsy.

His nose bumps Steve’s, teeth clacking, and Steve pulls back with a soft laugh. Bucky blushes with embarassment, but he looks at Steve’s smile, and feels Steve’s hand move up his spine, reassuring. “Slowly,” Steve says to him. “Like this.”

This time it’s slower, far less desperate, and Bucky starts to think that Steve really does know what he’s talking about. Their lips move against each other slowly, steadily, and it quickly becomes intoxicating. Tentative kisses grow deeper after a while, Steve running his tongue along Bucky’s bottom lip and then letting it dip inside of his mouth and Bucky clutches at his shirt, just as the dames had done all those year ago. He gets it now, how a kiss can make your knees feel weak; how a kiss can make you feel a lot of things.

When they pull away, both panting just a little, cheeks flushed, Bucky’s lips tingling and his fingers still wrapped in Steve’s shirt, Bucky realises that he’s half hard. He doesn’t think Steve will mind - Steve has probably, no, definitely, dealt with more - so he doesn’t think too much of it.

“Wanna lie down?” Steve asks.

Bucky wants absolutely nothing more.

The TV show plays in the backround as Steve shifts them, him on his back and Bucky lying between his legs on the couch that is only barely big enough. Stupid, Bucky thinks, that in the 21st century they arent making couches big enough for a grown man to sprawl out on. How does anyone get any proper making out done?

Because that’s what they do, for-- well, time seems to get away from him after that. But they make out for a long time, the show still playing in the background, muffled beneath the sounds that they both make.

And then it becomes something else. Steve shifts, probably uncomfortable from being on his back for so long, but his hips brush up against Bucky’s and Bucky sees white, every nerve ending firing for a split second. He gasps, goes still, and Steve immediately does the same.

“I’m sorry,” He murmurs, but Bucky shakes his head.

“Do that again,” He demands. He’s paying for the time; he thinks he can afford to make a few demands here and there. Natalia would be proud of him for it, probably. Using his words.

Steve studies his face for one long moment, and then his hands move from Bucky’s back to his hips, holding him steady as he rolls his hips up again, grinding against Bucky. Bucky, who’s done a hell of a lot more than this to himself, and who’s watched a lot more than this in porn (and once again, honestly, god bless porn), and yet is more turned on than he has been since he came back. He gasps, his eyes falling closed, forehead dropping to settle against Steve’s. If it bothers steve, he doesnt admit it; he just grinds his hips up against Bucky’s, over and over again, giving a soft groan here and there.

He really starts making noises, though, when Bucky starts rolling his hips down, meeting each of Steve’s thrusts upward and increasing the friction, the pressure. Bucky gives a strangled sounding yelp when Steve grabs his ass through his jeans, holding onto him as they move against each other.

It’s an embarassing thing, Bucky’s heard, to come in your pants - the kind of thing that teenagers do. But he might as well be a teenager, for all the experience that he has, and as he grinds down against Steve, listening to him moan and watching his face contort in pleasure, he doesn’t think that Steve has a problem with it.

The heat pools in his belly and spills over far too quickly; Bucky comes with a long, too-loud moan, seeing fireworks behind his eyes, and with Steve’s hand on his ass grounding him to the living room, to Steve, who murmurs _fuck, Bucky_ , and then tilts his head back, moaning as his hips stutter and then stop. Bucky’s sweating and now his underwear feels gross, but he doesn’t immediately move. Steve winds his arms around his waist and so Bucky flattens against him, tucks his face into Steve’s neck.

“So - take it that was good?” Steve says after a moment, still panting after Bucky has caught his breath.

Bucky actually laughs, snorting softly against Steve’s skin. It draws a laugh from Steve, a delicious sound that makes Bucky’s dick twitch in interest, but he quickly wills it to settle down so he can enjoy being close, just for a moment.

“I need to change.” Bucky murmurs. “Do you, uh - do you need to borrow some of my underwear?”

He looks up at Steve, who’s smiling almostly slyly. “I have a spare pair in my bag.” He admits, which for some reason - probably the last of the orgasmic endorphins - gets Bucky to laugh again.

“Bathroom is in here,” Bucky says, once he’s gotten up and led Steve down the hall. They change in separate rooms, funny after they just brought each other to orgasm, and when they meet in the hallway again, Bucky feels a touch braver.

“Can I show you some things?”

Steve arches one golden eyebrow. He smirks, so Bucky knows he’s teasing (Bucky’s starting to get to know Steve’s different facial expressions), and says, “Depends what they are.”

“Porn.” Bucky answers.

The other eyebrow shoots up to meet the first. Bucky finds an odd satisfaction in surprising Steve, and he grins. He outright grins, which seems to melt Steve just a little. “Sure.”

So they return to the couch, and Bucky grabs his laptop. He doesn’t have any videos saved or anything like that, but he has the titles memorised, and so he shows Steve. It’s nothing too out of the ordinary; nothing too… _niche_. He hasn’t had time to explore fetishes yet. He’ll get there.

“So this is stuff you want to try?” Steve asks, head tilted just a little as they watch a man give a very enthusiastic blowjob on the screen. Bucky nods. Steve hums softly. “One new thing a week? How’s that?”

“Twice a week.” Bucky says. Jesus, he’s being brave today. “Could you come over twice a week?”

“As often as you like.” Steve says. For a second that makes no sense to Bucky - surely he has other clients? - but he can’t argue with such a statement. He can see Steve as often as he likes?

“Three times a week.” Bucky says.

Steve grins. “How’s Friday?”

Bucky thinks friday sounds pretty goddamn swell. At 10, he kisses Steve once more, long and lingering, and then lets him go, watching him from the window. On Thursday morning, at sparring, he pins Natalia to the mat, still smiling just a little.

“What’s got you so happy?” She asks, pretending to sound exasperated, even though Bucky knows that she isn’t - she’s pleased for him.

“I’m gettin' a blowjob tomorrow.” Bucky smiles.

Natalia immediately stops smiling. “I wish I had never asked.”

Bucky doesn’t care; he keeps smiling even when Natalia eventually beats him, calling him out for being too distracted. It’s worth it, really.

~*~

Over the next handful of weeks, Bucky learns that handjobs are good, and blowjobs are great, and that doing either or both of those in a place that isn’t the couch only makes it better.

But he knows what this is building to; he knows what path they’re on, and they’ve gotten past the first few milestones. To continue the shitty metaphor (Bucky’s getting better at those), they’ve about reached their destination.

Bucky is terrified, in the best sense of the word.

Not because he doesn’t trust Steve; he would trust Steve with his life, at this point, because he’s been incredibly sweet and incredibly understanding this entire time. At the end of the day, of course, he’s getting paid for all of it, but Bucky likes to think that it’s his character; that Steve genuinely cares about him, and doesn’t mind taking it slow with him. He likes to think that they’re friends. He doesn’t think it’s too much of a stretch from the truth.

He and Steve get on well. Bucky doesn’t tend to get on well with anyone, because when it comes to interacting with other people he either doesn’t say a word or he comes across as prickly and cold and kind of a dick because, well, he is one. He doesn’t have too much expeience interacting with people, in his defence. No one used to try to make small talk with him when he was a mindless weapon. He's out of practice. Y'know, he used to be charming.

Not anymore.

Steve brings it out in him, though. In the post-orgasm glow they chat and they joke and they laugh, and Bucky feels like a different person - he feels like himself, the closest he’s been to his old self in a very long time. Steve brings that out in him. Steve listens to him, asks questions about him, wants to know about his likes and dislikes outside of the bedroom, and for some reason Bucky finds himself more than happy to talk, looking at the shifting hues of blue in Steve’s eyes as he tells him anything he wants to know.

He might be starting to get in too deep. No, in fact, he knows he's way too deep, he's practically drowning, but he thoroughly believes in not thinking about something making it not a problem.

“What are we up to tonight, then?” Steve asks once he’s through the door, crowding Bucky us against the wall and Bucky let’s him, god, no one else could ever do this to him, not without gaining a broken nose. “Something old, something new… something borrowed…” his eyes slip to the tablet on the coffee table, eyebrows wiggling, and Bucky blushes. They’re not borrowing from porn today - well. Not much. And he doesn’t think about why Steve’s mind immediately turned to that stupid old wedding rhyme - he’s got too much to worry about right now.

“My balls are blue enough,” Bucky responds, shoving at Steve, and again it amazes some distant corner of his mind. He can be funny when he wants to be. But when faced with using his words he goes shy, fingers running over the collar of Steve’s shirt, eyes fixated on the buttons. “‘Was actually kinda hoping you could fuck me.” He says, looking up at Steve just in time to catch his pupils blowing wide.

“Really?” Steve asks softly. The obvious answer is yes, really, hence why he asked (wasn’t Steve meant to be the smart one here?), but the less obvious one is why does Steve say that like he’s being given a gift? But, knowing you can’t answer a question with a question, Bucky just nods.

“Yeah.” He murmurs. “Yeah, I was.”

“Jesus,” Steve whispers, again with that reverent tone, before surging down to kiss Bucky.

They kiss as they walk backwards, and divest each other of their clothes. They’ve never been fully naked in each other’s presence before, always retaining underwear or shirts or something, but the kissing stops Bucky from panicking. They part to get Steve’s shirt over his head, and then his own, and kiss as they wriggle out of their pants, clothes scattered around the apartment like an x rated Hansel and Gretel.

Steve falls back onto the bed, propped up on his elbows, and Bucky wants to follow but for some reason, he stops. He stops and stares at what’s out on display in front of him, taking it all in for a second.

And then he starts to overthink.

He shouldn’t be doing this. Oh, He shouldn’t be doing this at all. Steve looks all hard muscle and sharp angles but he’s not like Bucky; Bucky is marble, cold and hold and unyielding. He’s a weapon. A danger. Steve is— Steve looks—

Soft. Warm. He looks so inviting, hair sticking up just a little from where he had mussed it first lying down on the bed.

“If this is too much, we can take it slower.” Steve says, is saying, lips moving but Bucky hears him on a delay. Kiss swollen lips, from the bruising few kisses they’d shared on their way here. Bucky wants him so badly. He’s just having an internal war with himself first, no big deal. “A lot of people like a little talking, first. Eases them into it.”

Bucky doesn’t want to talk; he and Steve have been talking for a long time now. What Bucky wants is for his body to cooperate, for his heart to stop beating for so fast and for his dick to do it’s job. He knows Steve. He likes Steve. He shouldn’t be so nervous.

“What kind of things?” He croaks, because even though he shouldn’t be nervous, he can’t help but be anything but.

“All sorts of things.” Steve says, as Bucky sways ever so slightly on his feet, still at the foot of the bed. “Some people like to talk about themselves. Some people like to talk about me. Some people just wanna talk about the weather, or baseball, it’s really—“

“Tell me about you,” Bucky blurts out, before he can stop himself. “Tell me — tell me why.”

“Why?”

“Why this job? You - you lobby people. You work for charities? So why this? Too?” Stop talking, Barnes. Bucky clamps his lips shut, teeth clicking audibly.

It was the question he had wanted to ask a long time ago, when they had first met, but one he had never felt comfortable asking until right now. And even now he doesn’t feel that comfortable, is still halfway worried he’ll offend Steve, but he just needs a distraction. He needs an answer to a burning question and a distraction, and at this point they’re basically interchangeable.

“I do a lot of lobbying and advocacy, yeah.” Steve says, and smiles like he’s pleased that Bucky remembered. Sure they don’t talk about Steve’s work often, but Bucky remembers everything; it’s the serum. He can’t help it. Wishes he could. Wishes that it was special that he had remembered something about Steve. “But this is… more lucrative. More enjoyable most of the time, too. Happier endings.”

He grins crookedly, and Bucky sways once more. He loves that look on Steve, effortlessly sexy, “Would you quit? If you could?”

Steve considers that. “I think it would depend on the circumstances. This job… sometimes it helps people. I try not to do it if it doesn’t - if people just want sex, there are people way cheaper than me who are happier to do it quicker. If I had a steadier, better paying job? If I met someone?” He pauses there, and he looks at Bucky with an expression that is infuriatingly unfathomable. “Yeah. Monogamy and this job… don’t really mix. I mean, I want someone who's not ashamed of this. Of what I do - of who I am. But I think if I wanted to be that way with someone, someone I really loved, I would consider it.”

Bucky nods, thoughtful, his brow furrowed.

“I guess monogamy doesn’t really fit with your job either.” Steve smiles softly.

“I don’t - I’m not one of them, really. The avengers. I just - I’ve helped them out a few times. But I’m not.” Bucky explains, badly, sitting down beside Steve on the bed.

“So what do you do?” Steve asks.

“I don’t do anything.” Bucky murmurs.

“Oh.” Steve says softly. He reaches out, very slowly and very carefully, and tucks an errant lock of hair behind Bucky’s ear. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t…” Bucky swallows thickly. “I don’t know.”

Steve smiles gently. “You’ll figure it out.” He says. “You’ve got your whole life, right? No need to figure it out in the next five minutes.”

Bucky’s been told that before, of course, but this is the first time that it really hits home. He looks at Steve for a long moment, and then bites his lip. “Can we kiss? For a while?”

“‘Course, Bucky. Whatever you want.” Steve murmurs, shifting closer to him, moving across the bed.

And there it is again - _whatever you want,_ thrown about so casually. It isn’t casual for Bucky, it’s a revelation. Steve has taught him that he can want, and that he can ask, because sometimes want does get, if you’re brave and you ask politely.

Steve moves so that his body is pressed against Bucky’s, so close that Bucky can smell the musk of his skin, feel the warmth of it up against him. He pauses, running his fingertips over Bucky’s face, from his temple down to his jaw, and it sends a shiver from the roots of his hair right down to the tips of his toes, reverbrating through him.

When Steve finally, finally leans forward to kiss him, it’s the mostly gentle thing in the world. Closed-lip and as sweet as their first kiss, it makes something settle in Bucky’s stomach, and calms the frantic beating of his heart. When Steve’s lips part, and Bucky’s part in turn, he doesn’t feel so afraid anymore. Steve licking into his mouth is nothing new, and the way he does it, so carefully but not at all like he’s afraid of Bucky, more like he’s afraid of breaking him, it’s as much of a revelation as the first time.

Steve pushes him down onto the bed, and Bucky goes willingly. They kiss, deeper and hungrier, for what must be at least a half an hour. Bucky knows he’s half hard already but the fear, the sheer thought of the unknown keeps him from hardening fully, but Steve must know that. Steve has to know, because he pulls away from Bucky and smiles gently. “I’m gonna go get the lube, okay?”

Bucky nods, but even as Steve gets up (already half-hard himself, Bucky notes) he holds onto him, lips brushing Steve’s knuckles even as he pulls away (and then Bucky’s met with that ass, which he knew was great through his clothes but christ, seeing it on display like that is something else). Steve returns quickly, tossing the bottle of lube and a condom to one side and kissing Bucky again, long and slow and lingering.

Should Bucky be worrying about the fact that it’s at least somewhat fake? He’s paying Steve for this afterall. In three hour’s time (or more like two hours, Bucky wasted a lot of time), and he’ll be gone. He might even go to someone else’s bed. Bucky doesn’t know. Bucky doesn’t want to know.

Because right now, for all he cares, Steve is his.

Speaking of - Bucky is brought sharply out of his thoughts by the sensation of Steve’s lips moving down his body, sucking at his neck and then at his chest, teeth catching on his nipple before he moves on, over Bucky’s abdomen. It’s just kissing, but it makes Bucky’s dick twitch, just a little, his legs shifting because it feels so good. Steve’s tongue is hot as it trails over his abs, and then he presses a kiss to the crease of Bucky’s hip, looking up at him and smiling.

“Nothing we haven’t done before.” He promises. Bucky watches, silent until Steve wraps his lips around Bucky’s half hard dick, and takes it fully into his mouth.

After that, it really doesn’t take Bucky long to get hard. In his opinion, Steve’s mouth is fucking magical. He groans, tossing his head back against the foot of the bed as Steve moves his head slowly, tongue flat against the shaft of Bucky’s cock, too hot and too wet and too good. He holds onto Bucky’s hips, one thumb rubbing soothing circles into Bucky’s skin that only make it all so much more intense; knowing that Steve wants him to feel good, knowing that he cares - that’s the biggest turn on of all.

“I’m gonna open you up,” Steve murmurs, pulling off Bucky’s cock and wiping at the spit on his chin, looking so obscene that Bucky whimpers at the mere sight of him. “Okay? You tell me if you don’t like it. You gotta tell me.”

Bucky nods, panting softly. “I will.” He murmurs, giving Steve a shaky smile but pushing his legs further apart. Steve reaches for the bottle, opening it up and spreading some of the lube onto his fingers before once again tossing it aside. Bucky waits, waits for the pressure, the pain, but what he gets first is pleasure - Steve’s mouth wrapped around his cock once more, swallowing him down, so that Bucky’s moan fills the air around them.

And then he feels it, sort of cold but mostly slick, the slide of Steve’s finger ghosting from his balls down to his hole, circling it teasingly, causing the ring of muscle to flutter. Steve knows how to play him because Bucky moans again, surprised and turned on and needy, most of all. He knows it’s going to hurt but he wants it. He wants Steve, even if it’s just his fingers, just his mouth.

Steve spends a fair amount of time bobbing his head, keeping Bucky's attention on his cock in Steve's mouth as Steve presses just the tip of his middle finger against Bucky's ass, pushing in just to the first knuckle. It already burns a little, the stretch unfamiliar, but that warm mouth on his cock, tongue lathing at the sensitive veins that run along it, help to keep his mind off of it. Keep it from wandering, keep him from retreating too far into himself.

Bucky doesn't know how Steve knows, but he does. He knows how to keep Bucky present; he presses his finger slowly but surely into Bucky, past that first knuckle, to the second, down to the third, and as he does the tip of his tongue flicks over the slit at the head of Bucky's cock, causing his hips to buck upward, his eyes to squeeze shut. He moves that one finger slowly, as if worried Bucky will break - a nice thought, but entirely false. He fucks Bucky open slowly, until that single finger slides in and out of him with ease. Until _Bucky_ is the one writhing, hips rolling with need.

"Steve, please - I can - more."

Steve doesn't need to be told twice. He adds a second finger, and it burns but it still feels so good - and then it's blindingly, spine-tinglingly good, as Steve crooks his fingers inside of him and rubs over a certain spot that has Bucky all but arching off the bed.

"Fuck!" He gasps, reaching up to grab at the end of the bed, his other hand finding Steve's hair. "Do that again." He says, _demands_. Steve's chuckle sends vibrations along his length, and Bucky moans even louder than before.

The third finger is the one that gets him. Bucky is already sweating, writhing, his cock harder than it's ever been. Steve isn't even moving his head anymore, just holding it in his mouth, but it still drives Bucky wild.

"Steve -- fuck, Steve, I'm gonna come, I'm--" He feels like he can't even get the words out, his blood pulsing through his veins so fast and so hard, his heart beat in his ears threatening to deafen him. Yeah, Bucky's come before, come for Steve, come because of his mouth and his hands, but this is different. This is so much more than those ever were; Bucky feels like he might combust.

"Come on, Buck," Steve says, Bucky's cock falling out of his mouth, flushed bright red and covered in spit and pre-come. "Let me see you. Want you to come just from my fingers, then I'll make you come on my cock. Come on."

The words alone would be enough, but with Steve rubbing against his prostate like that, moving to lick along Bucky's cock where it sits against his belly - it's too much. Bucky comes with a shout, ropes of comes striping his stomach, pooling around his navel. Steve milks him through it, Bucky's eyes stinging with tears when it becomes a little too much. He feels wrung out, over-stimulated, but he feels... he isn't sure how to put it.

He wants more, though, he knows that for sure.

Steve leaves his fingers where they are, but he keeps them still as he shift up to kiss Bucky, soft and sweet. Bucky wraps his arms and Steve's neck and clings, panting softly against his mouth.

"Feel good?" Steve asks.

Bucky nods. "So good."

"We can have a rest," Steve says softly. "Or we can stop there, if you want."

Stop there - because even though Bucky had asked to be fucked, Steve doesn't want to push him. Doesn't want to make him do anything that he doesn't want to. It's good to know, but Bucky _really_ wants to keep going - and he doesn't want a rest.

He can feel Steve's cock, hot and hard and leaking against his leg. Apparently Steve doesn't want to stop there either.

"Fuck me, Rogers," Bucky says instead, finding Steve's eyes, the blue of them almost hidden by the black of his dilated pupils. It's good to know that Steve is just as hot as him; that he wants it as much as Bucky does, even if Bucky is just a client, even if --

No. Can't think like that now.

"Now?" Steve asks, eyebrows arching.

Bucky nods, and then swallows thickly. "Now. Or I'm kicking you out."

Steve grins, kisses Bucky one more time, long and lingering and hot. It sends a shiver down Bucky's spine, his hole clenching around Steve's fingers.

Steve pulls away and takes his fingers with him, leaving Bucky empty and loose. It's a strange feeling, but even stranger is that he aches to be full again - he watches Steve as he rolls on a condom and comes back to the bed, shiting between Bucky's knees. "Is like this okay, or do you want to come up onto your knees?" He asks, free hand running over Bucky's thigh as the other coats his cock with lube.

Bucky shakes his head. "I want to see you." He says, reaching for Steve's shoulders, arms outstretched. "I need to. I want to kiss you."

Steve is quiet for a moment, and Bucky wonders if he's said something wrong. But then Steve smiles just a little, lips quirking, and he looks at Bucky like he's the one lighting up the room. "Okay, Buck." He murmurs. He leans down to kiss him, a lot more softly than before, gentler. "Just relax for me, okay?"

Easier said than done. Bucky's still oversensitive, and Steve's cock feels a lot bigger than his fingers did just pushing against his rim. He takes a deep breath, and he knows that now would probably be when he would panic, retreat into himself, worrying about how much power someone else has over his body, about how vulnerable he is, how vulnerable _Steve_ is--

And then Steve kisses him, tongue sliding against Bucky's as he pushes inside of him, and Bucky's brain whites out with bliss.

It burns just a little but it's the _good_ kind of burn - strange, he knows, because he's used to pain and he had never really thought about it co-existing with pleasure but there it is, there they are - and Bucky keens, making a noise he didn't even know he could make.

He grips Steve shoulders tightly, probably tight enough to bruise; he'll worry about that later. Steve is still kissing him, teeth tugging at Bucky's bottom lip as he moves back, pullin away, and Bucky chases him but Steve just laughs, his forehead resting against the inside of Bucky's right shoulder. "God, you feel so good, Buck."

Bucky's stomach flutters, chest feeling a little tight. He doesn't know why but the words light him up from the inside, and he shifts to wrap his arms around Steve's neck, pulling him closer for just a second. He’s trying not to think too much about anything when it comes to Steve; Steve who might be his friend, but is still just providing a service. Don’t think about how this is definitely more than just a service for Bucky, whose hand shifts to Steve’s hair, fingers tangling in golden strands to try and get him to look up, so he can see those clear blue eyes once again.

It takes his breath away when Steve does look up. His gaze is so soft, so sweet, that Bucky gets lost for a moment. Steve presses their foreheads together, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment, and then he takes a breath. Bucky feels it against his lips, that soft exhale, and it makes his chest hitch.

“I’m gonna move now, okay?” Steve asks, and Bucky gives a muted nod.

“Please.” He murmurs, his hand still tangled in Steve’s hair, tugging softly.

Steve pulls back a little and Bucky whimpers at the emptiness that follows in his wake. He doesn’t go far, pulling back only a few inches before he pushes back in, but it makes Bucky’s back arch, his fingers digging into Steve’s shoulders where he holds onto him. It’s everything Bucky had thought it would be and so much better too; he doesn’t remember much of his life before the Soldier, but he knows he never felt this good.

Steve thrusts into him slowly, almost cautiously, an inch further back and an inch deeper every time until he’s almost pulling out of Bucky entirely before pushing back in, tilting his hip that he brushes that sweet spot on every pass of his hips. Bucky moans, his knees coming up around Steve’s waist, trying desperately to pull him deeper and keep him there. The room is quiet around them, filled only with the sound of their harsh, heavy breathing and the occasional moans and whimpers, which Bucky assumes his just him until he looks at Steve, his mouth falling open on a moan as Bucky’s hole tightens around him. It makes Bucky feel like he’s about to implode; Steve likes it, Steve likes _him_ , he’s going to make Steve come--

“I’m - Steve--” He gasps, back arching, fingernails carving crescent moons into his skin.

“You gonna come for me, Bucky?” Steve asks, his voice low and husky, adding to the heat pooling in Bucky’s abdomen. “You gonna come on my cock? Wanna see you, babe, come on--”

He reaches down, shifting his weight to one arm so the other can reach down to wrap a hand around Bucky’s twitching, leaking cock, angry red with how bad he needs to come, but Bucky bats his hand away. “Just like this,” He gasps between breaths. “Just your cock. Want it.” He murmurs, panicking for a moment that it’s too much, that Steve will think he’s weird, but Steve jut closes his eyes for a second, leaning down to kiss Bucky hard and sloppy.

“You’re gonna kill me.” He mutters, and Bucky doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing but it must be a good thing, because suddenly Steve starts to pound into him, his hips slapping against Bucky’s, adding to their breathing and their moans and breaking the near silence of the room. Bucky cries out, scrabbling to cling to Steve, his arms around his neck as he chants his name, the word becoming more and more broken until he gives an almost startled, strangled sounding moan, his back arching as he comes all over his stomach and Steve’s, too. Steve thrusts once, twice, Bucky’s hole twitching and tightening around him until he suddenly goes still, breathing a moan into Bucky’s skin as he climaxes.

They lie there for a moment, Steve hovering over him, Bucky trying desperately to catch his breath. When Steve pulls out he feels empty and too cold, and his nose wrinkles, looking down at the mess on his stomach and then up at Steve.

Steve gives a soft chuckle, pressing a chaste kiss to Bucky’s parted lips. “Give me two seconds, I’m gonna get something to clean you up.” he says, disappearing from view for just a second. He really is fast, though; he returns before Bucky can truly begin to miss him, swiping at him with a warm cloth which he then carefully sets on the ground beside the bed.

“Are you going to lie down now?” Bucky asks, for once disconnecting his brain from his mouth, letting it speak freely. “Cause I’m cold.”

Steve snorts softly, but he does clamber back onto the bed, moving up to Bucky’s side and wrapping an arm around his waist. “How was that?” He asks, his thumb brushing back and forwards over Bucky’s skin, leaving goosebumps behind.

“Do you have to ask?” Bucky murmurs, smiling when it gets a laugh out of Steve.

"I guess not." He returns, lapsing into silence as he looks at Bucky. His gaze is still soft, so gentle, that Bucky wants to lean up and kiss him again. He doesn't move, though, he just watches him, fingers twitching as he holds onto him.

"We could cook something." He says after a moment, worried that if he doesn't break the silence it'll get awkward, or he'll say something he shouldn't about Steve and _make_ it awkward. "If you're hungry. If you have the time, I don't wanna--"

"I have time." Steve nods. He smiles, kissing Bucky's forehead as he sits up. "What are we having?"

It turns out Bucky doesn't have much in his kitchen, but they cobble something together, sharing the same plate as the sit on the couch. Steve stays for longer than he's contract to; Bucky knows it, watches the hour come and go and even though the food is gone, Steve stays sitting, chatting, as if they really just friends. Friends who fuck. Friends who meet up _exclusively_ to fuck.

Bucky knows he shouldn't be overthinking it, because he's having a nice time. He likes spending time with Steve, no matter what they're doing. He likes how Steve doesn't mind cuddling up to him, isn't afraid of him, but still asks him if it's alright before he does anything. Everything they do is Bucky's choice; he appreciates that more than Steve can know.

"I should be going," Steve says, about half an hour after he really _should_ have been going, sitting up from where he had been leaning against Bucky's side. "I had a good time today, though."

Bucky's eyes widen just a little, but he smiles softly. "I had a good time too." He says, watching Steve as he stands up and stretches. Bucky gets up as well after a moment, trailing him to the door.

"I'll see you in a few days?" Steve asks, lingering with his hand on the doorknob, looking almost reluctant to leave.

"Like always." Bucky nods, hoping he doesn't sound too pathetic.

"Like always." Steve echoes. He pauses, looking at Bucky for a long moment before he takes a deep breath, opening the door. "See you later, Buck."

Bucky says goodbye, and he only stands at the door for fifteen minutes before he goes back to the couch, throwing an arm over his eyes and trying to ignore the funny feeling in his chest, and the empty feeling in his abdomen.

~*~

After that, Bucky doesn't feel so nervous about fucking. He still gets a little too in his head sometimes and has to grab Steve's hair or kiss him hard to pull him out of it, but it gets easier, just like asking for what he wanted in the first place.

And it turns out, fucking on the regular was what he had needed. He had started all of this because he was touch-starved and needy, because he wanted his body to be _his_ again, after everything it had been through, and he had gotten that. Steve had given him that, or helped him to get it for himself. Steve had been the key to all of this.

But it bleeds into Bucky's regular life too. One of the little Shield interns makes a mistake and though he doesn't sit her down and tell her it'll all be okay, patting her shoulder or whatever, he does give her a small smile as she flees the room.

"You're smiling," Natalia says, her own lips pulled up into a smirk as she leans across the table. "Why are you smiling?"

"I'm getting fucked every other day." He answers, because asking for what he wants has become easier, and talking about what he gets has as well. "Forgive me for being in a good mood."

"It's a good look for you, Yasha." She smirks, leaning back again in her seat, mischief in her eyes. "Did you finally get onto grindr?"

The question alerts some tiny part of his brain, the part that notes when things are weird, suspicious. "No," He says, like it should be obvious. It _should_ be. "Steve. Remember?"

"You're still seeing Steve?" She asks, her eyebrow hitching up just a little, just enough - there's something she doesn't know. Something _he_ doesn't know. He nods, waiting for her to tell him what she knows. She shakes her head. "I was told he'd given it up. Sex work. He got a new job, head of a lobbying department, I think. He was getting out of the game."

Bucky balks a little. He's been seeing Steve every Monday, Wednesday and Friday night for months now. Steve has never said a word to him. Why wouldn't Steve tell him?

"How long?" He asks, his voice sounding hollow even to his own ears.

"Two weeks." She answers, without a second's hesitation. "Or there abouts. He didn't go into a lot of detail."

Bucky turns on his heel and stalks away. He's going home - he's going to call Steve.

~*~

It turns out, he doesn't have to. It's a Monday, so Steve shows up right on time, letting himself in as Bucky had instructed him to do.

"Hey! You wouldn't believe the traffic out there, I was so sure I was gonna be late--"

"You got a new job."

Steve falters, his jacket half off his shoulders. He looks at Bucky, sat on the couch with his elbows resting on his knees, frowning at Steve from across the room.

"You talked to Nat."

"Yeah, I talked to Nat."

Steve takes off his jacket, sets it down, and approaches him slowly. "I'm sorry." He says. "I was going to talk to you about it. Every time I saw you I was going to mention it, but it - I was worried that you--"

It's the first time BUcky has ever seen Steve speechless, but it doesn't soften the harsh line of the frown cutting his features. Steve moves towards him, and then takes a seat on the coffee table opposite him, his hands clasped neatly in front of him like he's trying to make himself smaller.

"I used you. I'm sorry. It was just, every time, I--"

"Just tell me why." Bucky says, shaking his head. "You were still coming here, even though you had-- stopped? Natalia - Natasha - she said you _got out of the game_. But not me." Bucky is still talking - he wishes he could stop, but it's tumbling out of him. "Am I that pathetic? Am I that-- that broken, that you think I still need you--"

"No, Bucky, god no," Steve shakes his head, shifting to grab Bucky's hands and hold them tightly in his own. "I... I kept seeing you because I wanted to. It didn't seem right, to see you and not take payment, but I-- I still wanted to see you."

It baffles BUcky. If Steve had told him all of that, he would have been more than happy to keep seeing Steve. If Steve had told him all of that, Bucky wouldnt't have spent any other night wondering, wondering if Steve really liked him at all or if he was just another income, wondering whether he was better or worse than Steve's other clients, doubting everything he knew and everything he thought he knew.

"You should have told me."

"I know." Steve murmurs. "I'm sorry. I am. I just - I didn't know if you would want me, outside of this. I was selfish. I tried to keep you to myself."

It was selfish, yes, but - well. Bucky probably would have done the same, if their roles had been reversed. Bucky would have just kept paying for Steve til he perished from old age, to be honest - he never thought about the end, up until right now.

He doesn't want Steve to go. He likes Steve. He can't imagine why Steve would like him, but--

"You should've just _told_ me." Bucky repeats, sounding exasperated. "You're an idiot."

"I know that."

"Why would I still be paying for this if I didn't - if I wanted--"

bucky hates trying to use his words. He pulls his hands from Steve's and flops backwards onto the couch, gaze fixed on the ceiling. Steve doesn't move, and Bucky can feel him boring a hole into Bucky, staring after him.

"Are you going to ask me out or not?" Bucky sighs after a moment, bold like he always is with Steve. Steve brings it out in him. Takes him back to a truer version of himself. Maybe not the Bucky of before, and definitely not the soldier. Some happy in between that reflects who he is now.

"You still want me to?" Steve asks softly, which makes Bucky sit up, frowning even deeper now.

"I would have kicked you out by now if I didn't." He responds. He softens, just a touch. "If I didn't want you here, you'd know about it."

Steve's lips twitch up into a small smile, his head ducked down. He still seems so bashful, like Bucky's never seen before. He loves it.

"Alright." He says. "Then - will you go out with me? We can go to dinner. Maybe a movie. Then go back to my place, for the best sex ever?"

"Best sex ever," Bucky hums. "You better get practising, pal, the bar has been set pretty high for me."

"Oh?" Steve says, and then he grins, leaning forward into Bucky's space. "I'm gonna set it even higher, trust me."

Bucky looks at him for a long moment, grinning a little. He had honestly s;ent so long trying not to think about Steve, trying not to think about this, that now that it's happening he doesn't know what to do. How to act. He bites his lip, searching Steve's face for a second.

"Wednesday night." He says in the finish, blushing a little with the way Steve smiles at him. "You're paying."

Steve laughs, and before Bucky can join him he leans forward to kiss him, his hand settling gently against the curve of Bucky's jaw. It isn't the softest nor sweetest kiss they've ever shared, but it still feels different to Bucky, who smiles softly against Steve's lips.

"I guess it can be my treat," Steve smiles. "This time."

"You owe me." Bucky argues. "And I'm still technically paying for tonight. So--"

He didn't need to say anymore. Steve crossed the gap between them, clambering into Bucky's lap and kissing him harder, deeper, and Bucky wasn't going to argue - if anything, he was going get his money's worth, one last time.

**Author's Note:**

> So this has been in my drafts for like a year now? I'm sorry if it seems a bit disjointed - I've tried to make it as seamless as possible despite there being quite a few months between it being started and it being finished. 
> 
> But I hope you enjoyed it, and thank you for reading!


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